


Ever Green

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7961947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran overhears the conversation that Sereda has with Wynne about how their relationship could conflict with her duties as a Grey Warden.  He has... confusing feelings about the whole thing and ends up finding out more about her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever Green

Zevran Arainai is not a man who has ever needed anyone else.  Of course, he enjoys other people’s company, but everything is fleeting, and a life in the Crows doesn’t lend itself to neediness.  To vulnerability.  

And yet…

He hadn’t actually meant to eavesdrop, but the wind turned and the fire quieted, and, well, he wasn’t about to stop eavesdropping.  Especially not when the conversation is about him.

“I’ve noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going,” Wynne says, overly concerned.  “It seems he only has one thing on his mind, and I question the wisdom of a Grey Warden being involved in such an affair.”

It makes his stomach churn and his fingers curl in a sudden burst of anger.  When it comes to Sereda, there’s so much more on his mind than sex, and part of him wants to cross over to the older woman and tell her so.  But he barely has the words to start to explain it to himself, nonetheless to someone else, and the thought of making some grand proclamation of… something, makes him feel unsettled.  It shouldn’t bother him, that some old woman thinks all he wants from Sereda is sex, but it does, and he’s bothered by the fact that he’s bothered, on top of it all.  

Sereda’s next words don’t exactly soothe his turmoil.

“Zevran is special, and I have fun with him,” Sereda says, and he can hear the smile in her voice as she says his name, even though her tone is irritated.  

He’s special.  What does that even mean?  What would he want it to mean?

“Which is why I worry.  You are a Grey Warden.  You have responsibilities, and I fear you will neglect them,” Wynne says.  

“I can handle my relationships and my responsibilities,” Sereda says.  She’s too far away for him to see, but he can feel her eyes rolling.  

“Love is ultimately selfish.  It demands one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one’s mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else.  A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish.  You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else.  And then what will you do?” Wynne asks.  

When did she bring love into this?  Love isn't something that he's certain he's worthy of, or even capable of feeling. He's not certain that anyone truly is, or if they just like to think they are.  

Love is a nice lie, and that’s all. 

“That isn’t anything new.  Feelings and duty always conflict,” Sereda snaps.  “Keep your nose out of this.”

That gives Zevran some pause.  

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended.  I was just trying to point out why this affair may be a bad idea,” Wynne says.  

“First it’s too casual because you don’t like the notion of a Grey Warden having sex, and now the almighty power of our love is going to doom the whole world,” Sereda says.  “It’s incredible, really.”

“I am just trying to…” Wynne sighs and shakes her head.  “I have given you my advice.  Do with it what you will.”

In the flash of the firelight, Zevran can see Sereda’s frustration and anger as she turns away, which she quickly hides when she sees him looking.  She smiles tightly at him for a moment before settling down outside her tent.  Her swords are stored there for the night, but she picks one up to start to sharpen it.  

Zevran is torn.  He wants to go sit next to her, to make her laugh and relax her because she’s holding herself so tense now.  But he also feels uncharacteristically jittery and anxious.  Something about the conversation he overheard made him uncomfortable.  He doesn’t know if he wants the super casual sex or the almighty, world endangering love.  This is all so wrong.  

Finally, he gets up and circles around the fire so he’s sitting next to her.  Funnily enough, the only thing that reliably soothes the increasingly common bouts of turmoil is proximity to Sereda.  Even if she’s the cause of all this uncomfortableness, she’s also so easy to spend time with. 

Sereda looks up at him as she settles next to him.  The flickering light of the fire makes the tattoos on her face stand out starkly against her pale skin.  They're much more extensive than his own facial tattoos, and he likes to trace them sometimes.  

“Hey,” Sereda says, bumping her elbow against his gently.  Usually she leans up and kisses him, but he guesses that she doesn’t want to disrupt her work.  

“Hello,” Zevran says, watching her work.  He’s not sure what to say next.  “I saw you had a pleasant chat with Wynne.”

Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say because she stiffens a little.  

“Oh, you know Wynne.  She’s… Wynne,” Sereda says.  “Worried that I’m not up to the task or that I’m going to doom the world.  The usual.”

“Yes, I overheard at least some of it,” Zevran says quietly.  

“Sorry,” Sereda mumbles, focusing hard on her sword.  “I swear, I didn’t go looking for Wynne’s input.  Her opinion doesn’t really matter.  She doesn’t know much of anything.”

“Do not apologize, my dear,” Zevran says.  “Your affairs are your own.”

Sereda snorts.  “What a wild thought.  Although, this involves you, too.”

“I am not the one that Wynne is concerned about,” Zevran says.  

Sereda sighs and nods, eyes on the metal before her.  She works in silence for a little bit, and Zevran takes in the sight.  Her hands are steady and confident; even though, her face is the aggressively blank face that she uses when she wants to hide what she’s feeling.  

“What did you hear, exactly?” Sereda finally asks, setting her sword aside.  

“The part where you said that feelings and duty always conflict, and the rest of it,” Zevran lies.  He doesn’t want to bring up love, or being special, or any of the other complicated things.  This is hard enough.  “I quite liked it when you told her to keep her nose out of it.”

“Ah,” is all Sereda says.  

“Yes, you sounded quite irritated, as if this was not the first time you’ve heard such a speech,” Zevran says.  

Sereda’s head snaps up to look at him, suddenly on the defensive.  “It wasn’t.”

“I will not ask more.  I know how much you value your privacy,” Zevran says softly; she’s revealed almost nothing about her pre-Warden life.

He brushes his fingers over her cheek gently, and as she leans into her touch, his heart starts to flutter in his chest.  

“It’s okay,” Sereda says slowly.  “So long as you don’t get jealous.”

“I would never.  You have never gotten jealous either, after all,” Zevran says, “and I would never make any claims on you, even now.”

But there’s a lie in there somewhere.  Of course he wouldn’t get jealous; it would be foolishly hypocritical to get jealous about things that happened before he even knew her.  However, there is some kind part of her that would like to make a claim on her in some way.  Even if it’s just the smallest claim of: I would like to be in your future, in some way, some how.

Sereda smiles at him, and then gets this dreamy, faraway look on her face.  “There was a girl.  We were sixteen and both training together and then… things progressed.  Adal was the most beautiful girl that’s ever existed, I bet.  I used to tell her that the Paragons themselves must have sculpted her face.  And she could fight!  She almost broke my jaw once, but then we kissed when she came to check.  And, well, who cares if you have a broken jaw when you're kissing a beautiful girl?  For a year and a half, we were inseparable and in love.  It was… a wonderful time.”

Zevran swallows around the lump in his throat.  She sounds so longing, so wistful, and this is the most she has ever talked about her life before coming the surface.  The tender longing is something that he's never heard before. 

“But I take it all did not end well for the young lovers,” Zevran says softly.  He almost doesn't want to bring it up because the tender longing will end.  

“The dwarven population is low.  The population of our House was low,” something about that makes her laugh, bitterly.  “My father was concerned that if I was so attached to her no man would ever want to marry me, and then I wouldn’t be able to bear children for the glory of our House.  So we were forbid from seeing each other again.”

“I am sorry,” Zevran says, frowning.  “I cannot imagine that you took that lying down.”

Sereda smiles, sad.  “Orzammar society is small, insular.  We couldn’t avoid seeing each other, but it was never like it was.  We never  _ really  _ saw each other again.  I knew what my duty was, and so did Adal.  It was stupid to get involved with each other from the start.”

“Duty trumps feelings,” Zevran says, barely speaking.  

It doesn’t surprise him.  Honestly, her single minded yet fair pursuit of her goal is one of the many things that he admires about her.  He’s long known that she would choose stopping the Blight over anything, even her own life.  

Sereda runs her gaze over his face before resting her head on his shoulder.  The weight of her is comforting, and he wraps an arm around her.  They both get cold at night, unused to the harshness of Ferelden weather.

“Yes, well, that was then.  I’m older now, hopefully a little wiser, and I don’t really see where duty and feelings are at odds here,” Sereda says.  “Blind obedience to duty isn’t a virtue.”

Zevran rubs circles into her arm with his thumb, hoping to soothe some of the tension he feels thrumming throughout her body.  “You are capable of making your own choices.  Wynne has said her piece, but you don’t have to act on it.”

“She’s the same woman who tried to soothe my worries about being a Grey Warden- which don’t exist because I can’t imagine doing anything on the surface other than killing darkspawn- by telling me that the Maker puts us on the right path,” Sereda says with a snort.  “As if, you know, I believe in the Maker or would care what he thinks even if I did.  Wynne is nice enough, but not someone that I would take advice from.”

“Then perhaps you would allow me to accompany you to your tent?” Zevran says.  

Sereda looks up at him with a grin on her face.  “You know, she also mentioned that apparently nobody else gets much sleep since you’ve started accompanying me back to my tent.” 

“Lucky them, to hear the beautiful noises we make,” Zevran says, smiling back.  

Sereda pulls on his shirt gently, so Zevran acquiesces, bending down to capture her lips in a kiss.  Being so much taller than his lover is certainly a new experience, but it also brings unique experiences that he enjoys.  Such as when she pulls him down for a kiss, not content to wait for him.

Her lips are smooth from the blue tinted lip balm she always wears and she nibbles on his bottom lip, sending a pleasant jolt through him.  Fingers curl around his arm, pulling him closer to her, and his fingers run through her short hair.  

His world narrows down to this.  To lips and tongues and teeth and noses and hands and warm bodies pressed close.  To her.  Everything else might as well not exist.

Zevran has never known anyone who can undo him so thoroughly with a kiss.  He has always enjoyed the fine art of kissing, tutting at his lovers who rushed right to the love making, but this is something wholly different.  This is… he could sit here with her and kiss her forever.  

A poetic exaggeration, perhaps, but he’s never been prone to such things before.  At least not sincerely.

When they pull apart, his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and his soft smile matches Sereda’s.  

Alistair and Morrigan are making matching retching noises, and Leliana coos.  Over Sereda’s shoulder, he can see Wynne watching them.  The frown is prominent on her face, and it makes a lump form in his throat.  

“To your tent, my dear?” Zevran murmurs, looking away.

Sereda frowns a little.  “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Zevran says.  “Just eager.”

Sereda looks at him suspiciously, but Zevran gets up and pulls her to her feet.  She lets him pull back the flap to her tent for her and crawls inside.

“Always so polite,” Sereda murmurs, tossing him a smile.  

Zevran follows her inside, letting the flap shut behind him.  “I must say, I do enjoy the view.”  

Sereda pulls him gently so he’s on top of her, and he bends down to press kisses to her neck.  She moans as her surprisingly nimble fingers start to undo the buttons on his shirt.  His confusion and inner turmoil melt away under her touches, and he lets himself relax.

* * *

Of course, it comes back, because it always comes back.  Because when they’re done, when he has drawn every beautiful sound out of her that he can, when the overwhelming pleasure has settled into comfortable bliss, when they’re both delightfully exhausted, Zevran’s not left to gather his clothes and stride back to his tent.  

No, no.  Instead, Sereda shifts, resting her head on his chest.  She’ll shift around to different positions sometimes, but this seems to be her favorite.  Her ear presses to his chest and her fingers doodling designs into his chest sleepily, or tracing the lines of his tattoos idly.  Warm breath steals over his sweaty skin as his arms wrap around her, holding her close.  

He looks down at her, watching as her eyes slide closed.  Her hand slows down and eventually goes limp, palm resting on his chest.  She’s slowly drifting off to sleep, and the sight makes Zevran smile softly.  

It’s not as if cuddling is some foreign concept.  Marks hope that by faking affection, they can earn their lives, and people in general like being held like this.  But only foolish marks fall asleep in the arms of someone paid to kill them, and even if he wasn’t on a mission, anyone who had an inkling of who he was wasn’t likely to fall asleep either.  Zevran certainly never actually fell asleep so foolishly.

And yet, here Sereda is, asleep in his arms as if it’s nothing.  As if he had never tried to murder her, as if he’s not a cold hearted assassin, as if he could be trusted.  

Even though Sereda is much stronger than him, in this state, he could easily reach down and crush her windpipe.  He could smother her with the pillows, silent.  His clothes are in a pile within arm’s reach, and there’s a dagger waiting in its sheath.  It would be so easy to grab it and slice her throat or stab her.  She’s far too intelligent not to know this.

Yet, she is completely asleep.  At first, he had assumed it was a test, but no.  She’s truly asleep.

What surprises him the most is the fact that he falls asleep, too.  Perhaps not tonight, when thoughts run through his head quicker than he can keep track of them, but tomorrow, he’ll fall asleep in Sereda’s arms.  And if she doesn’t invite him to her tent, then he knows he won’t sleep as well as he would here.

Zevran Arainai isn’t a man who has ever needed anyone before.  Becoming… entangled with someone else is simply asking for pain.  It had happened with Rinna and with Taliesin, and look what that had wrought. And yet, here he is, feeling all these strange and wrong things more strongly than ever, and he doesn’t know what to do.

* * *

Sereda stirs awake, feeling relieved when it’s still dark outside.  That means she’ll be able to go back to sleep.  She loves these little moments, though, where she wakes up to feel Zevran’s arms around her and his heart beating in his chest.  

She tilts her head so she can look up at Zevran because he looks so nice when he’s sleeping, but he’s not asleep.  Even through the fog of sleepiness, Sereda can tell that he looks serious, which is concerning, because Zevran rarely admits things are serious.  

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Sereda mumbles, the unfamiliar nickname feeling weird in her mouth.  But it makes her happy when he calls her that, so maybe it’ll make him happy, too.  

Zevran looks down at her with a gentle smile on his face.  “Nothing, nothing.  Go back to sleep.”  

She reaches up to stroke his cheek.  “Mmmph.” 

It had meant to be something more soothing, but she’s too sleepy to put it all together.  

“A very excellent point,” Zevran says with a soft chuckle.  

Sereda hasn’t felt comfortable cuddling with someone else since Adal.  She had to keep herself closed off from any more connections to anyone, particularly anyone that she slept with.  Princesses don’t get to have their own feelings, and she couldn’t risk compromising her position by falling asleep in someone’s arms- especially since they might be plotting against her.  So she and whoever she took to bed would have their fun, and then they would leave almost immediately after.

She’s not a princess anymore, so she can feel safe and comfortable around people now.  Oh, how Zevran makes her feel so warm and safe.  It’s so wonderful to feel like this with someone else again, even if she had surprised herself when she had pulled Zevran close that first time instead of watching him leave.

Sleep is coming for her again, which is nice.  She reaches out and finds Zevran’s hand, squeezing tightly.  It’s not something that she’s brave enough to do while awake, not yet, but his hand is so warm and feels so right in hers that she wants to work up the courage to do this while she’s awake enough to fully appreciate it.


End file.
